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By the hands of the Gods, you have been plucked from your time and from your world, dropped into the box.
Only the box is a world of its own.

We are a mass crossover based on the concept of Pandora's Box. Characters from nearly any fandom can be played here. Because of the endless character possibilities, we are canon only here at Pandora. Take a peek at our rules and plot information before starting your new life in Pandora.

Curse-tesy

From Midnight of November 1st until Midnight of November 8th, year 7, King George III has been cursed to only be able to sing, not speak. His words will naturally fall from his mouth as song, and if he attempts to speak normally his tongue shall become as lead in his mouth -- immovable -- his throat shall become as parched as a desert, and only a dry, dusty silence will leave his lips.

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It wasn't hard to look away from that woman's face. She is inhumanly tall. That should have been a red flag. He should have run far away from her an hour ago. The last hour of October, and it had to end like this. He was sore from participating in the Great Pumpkin Run, even if he walked most of the way, with only an inanimate pumpkin to show for it. The brave soul named Nicole ((the pumpkin)) went silent permanently as soon as the two entered the town limits of Misty Hollow.

All he asked for was directions. Where could he possibly find a place to stay that isn't in the woods? The stranger led him deeper into the woods. She turned her charm on and he, being a paragon of his time, was repulsed. He pretended to find his dirtied shoes visually pleasing.

"I need real directions. Now."

George spoke back. He would not submit to anybody on this plane of existence. Oh no, she's speaking again. Her tone of voice changed from enthralling to unsettling, and he looked up. It was too late to prevent the hex she was performing. Next instant, there was nobody there. He was about to say something the likes of 'Have a great Samhain' as a courtesy before he realized what she had done.

There was nothing left in him to say anything. When he tried, all that came out was coughing. It did not stop. Not for a hot minute. Is this death? Not yet, please! It's not time. It'll never be time, NEV... oh it stopped. He guessed at the direction the town was.

When his breath came back for real, a song came with it.

"Well I heard there was a secret chord

That David played and it pleased the Lord

But you don't really care for music, do you?"

He heard this song playing on a speaker once, maybe. Pandora Town has a couple of those. Speaking to nobody in particular. Just projecting what other people are too shy or feeble to convey by themselves.

"Well it goes like this, the fourth, the fifth

The minor fall, the major lift!"

It's impossible for that part not to feel epic.

"The baffled king"

He stopped

"Composing... hallelujah."

After getting choked up for no reason, he continued silently to a modest road.

"Ssssssssoooo. You, uh... you always communicate through the dazzling medium of song, buddy?"
Everyone's favourite pliable paladin, Plastic Man, was also something of a wanderer. Or, well, he had been since coming to Pandora. Hey, a guy needed to keep healthy, even if he was made of imperishable polymer-like material; there was something surprisingly pleasant about the spooky-as-hell woods that surrounded the equally spooky-as-hell town of Misty Hollow. Maybe it was the lack of crowds?

Anyway, he'd been walking through the woods that day when he happened to spot a guy... singing. Nothing else, just walking and singing. It was weird, and Plas knew a thing or two about weird.

Sauntering up, Plas gave his new pal the ol' once-over, checking him out and seeing what kind of rube he was dealing with here. Well, the fashion sense was kind of funky, sure, but who was Plastic Man of all people to start getting hung up on fashion tips?

"Listen, pal, musical jokes aside, are you lost? You kinda look lost to me. D'you need a hand back to the Hollow or something?"
Hey, Plas had never been one to refuse a hand to a fella in need. And this guy, this singing-and-walking-around guy? He could probably use a hand.

Briefly, Plas wondered where the woman he'd been singing to had gone. She'd been here a minute ago, hadn't she? Oh well. Eel promptly forgot about it. It was probably a ghost or something.